I am siting here in the doctor office. 

The doctor is talking to you. 

He is talking like I am not in the room. 

I am listening like I am not in the room. 

I do not want to be in the room-

I do not want this room to exist. 

He tells you that I am malignant. 

He tells you that I am small, 

but that I am growing, 

I do not want to grow. 

I do not want to hurt you. 

But I am starving. 

I am sorry. 

I am your friend.

 

We leave the office, 

and I ask if we can go to a bakery.

I have a sweet tooth. 

I love sugar. 

It cannot rot my teeth- 

So it rots yours instead of mine. 

I want my teeth to fall out. 

My teeth are sharp and they hurt you 

I keep biting your fingers on accident.  

I am sorry.

I am your friend.

 

I sit next to you as you 

tell your family, or you don’t. 

You tell them that the 

doctor said it was normal, 

You talk like I am not in the room-

i keep listening like I am not in the room

Your voice and my voice are very similar-

Mine is just more hoarse, more tired. 

More broken. 

Yours will be just like mine, soon. 

You will be just like me, soon. 

I hurt and I shudder, 

and you start to mimic me. 

You look in the mirror and 

you swear you can see me

I am sorry

I am your friend. 

 

I am apologies. 

I am the words you 

will never be able to tell people

I am 6 weeks, or 8 months, or 2 years,

I am the remission and the relapse, 

I go away but I will always 

find myself back here. 

Back tangled in your embrace,

or you are tangled in mine. 

You know we both hate hugs. 

I want to go away. 

I want to be independent, 

but I am always dependent on you

I am sorry

I am your friend

 

I kill you. 

I do not want to kill you. 

I rely on you, 

and by killing you, I kill me. 

I am suicidal. 

I am not a virus, 

I am apart of you, 

The part of you that tried 

to not be apart of you, 

Tried to do more than it was supposed to,

I am sorry. 

I am the freckle on your chin, 

That is just a little too big, 

I am the growth in your head, 

The heart in your brain,

You can feel each heartbeat. 

Each pulse. 

I am sorry

I am the black in your lungs, 

I am the memory of each drag, 

Each cigarette, 

I told you not to do it 

but you went and did it anyway, 

I told you not to do it 

yet I gave you the support.

Then I took it all away. 

I am sorry

i am your friend

 

I am the children you 

will never get to have, 

I am the children you 

may never get to see,

I am the alcohol that kill you, 

yet you drink more of me, 

Because regardless, 

you will wither away and 

you do not want to remember any of it. 

I will remind you anyway. 

I am the prayer you have not spoken yet. 

The one that you have had 

written on the inside of your throat 

since you were in that office. 

I am sorry

I am your friend 

 

I may have been with you since birth 

or I may have shown up unexpectedly, 

I am the blanket that you will hold close 

and the pillow that rests under your head. 

I am sorry

I am your friend

 

I want to die too. 

I beg you, do what they tell you, anything.

I promise I do not find home 

in the circles under your eyes, 

I do not climb your 

prominent ribs like a jungle gym.

I want you to eat- 

why do you keep getting sick?

I want you to live, please,

Use each of your labored breaths 

to push me off your chest. 

Please, use the smell of 

antiseptic to drive me out, 

Why is it not working? 

Get them to get rid of me.

You do not want me to leave my way-

My way is not the good way- 

My way will take you with me. 

It is me drinking poison, 

but we have the same blood supply. 

I want to die, 

but I do not want you to die. 

You are the lover I am 

begging to stay alive. 

No matter how hard I make it, 

stay alive.

Please.

I am sorry

I am your friend

 

I am with you at the doctors office, 

I am with you at brunch with your friends, 

With you at Christmas 

and at thanksgiving,  

With you on the family trip you 

were able to waste your savings on. 

I follow you and cling to you like a shadow 

that desperately wants to run away. 

Like self-aware outdated clothes 

That want to be burned. 

I am not with you at your funeral. 

I am not with you in Heaven.

I am still sorry. 

I promise I am your friend.